But Judah, I love her!
by Knight Falchion
Summary: Doma just wants to be struck by the Falchion of love, no matter the gross implications of it all! FE2 one-shot. Displayed chance of 99 percent crack.


Names are taken from whatever version of the translation patch I played and from Shadow Dragon for the peg sisters. Prepare yourself for vulgarity and general nonsensical idiocy.

* * *

In the dark recesses of the fetid bubbling swampland, Doma was curled up in the fetal position, crying. Judah glowered at the blubbering god, gingerly stepping around the oozing slime sloughing off of his body.

"Milord Doma, it's only been a few days since we captured the princess," Judah grumbled, "so there's no need to despair that the boy is not yet here. He does have to defeat the rest of his father's rather sizeable army, after all. Give it some time."

"B-b-but I've been waiting for this chance to feel her for y-y-yuh, years," Doma sobbed, tears of slime splashing from his giant bloodshot eye. Each blob splatted onto the ground with a hiss and gave birth to a single Bigle, each of which shared its creator's tearful and bloodshot state. This did horrors to their already shitty depth perception and so the monsters crashed into walls, Judah, and Heste with increased regularity.

Judah was protected by his divisible-by-four shield and so just sighed as the Bigles rebounded off of him. Heste had no such luck and was thrown into the swamp.

"Milord, no offense, but you should have given up on Mila when she left your slimy ass for that old wind god," Judah retorted, crossing his arms and ignoring the progressively violent witch fight between Mara and Heste over the former's guffaw at the latter's expense. The two literally summoned witches in midair and threw the poor women at each other, providing more fodder for the impaired Bigles to smack into.

"D-don't bring up that damnable Holsety!" Doma whined, lashing his tentacles about and severing a few hurled witches in two. "Smelling better and knowing a nice vacation spot in Archanea doesn't make him a better boyfriend than me!"

"You know what does make him a better boyfriend than you?"

"What?" Doma sniffed, glaring at his high priest.

"He's not Mila's brother." Judah flinched as Doma reared up to his full height, beams of dark energy blazing forth from his eye and causing a tremor that knocked Heste back into the bog.

"Zeus was Hera's brother and he still banged her!" Doma screeched. "And don't get me started on the practices of the ancient Jugdralis!"

"Okay, okay, fine," Judah conceded in a consoling manner. "I'll admit that incest isn't exactly uncommon among gods and their followers. It doesn't make it right for you." Doma gave the dark priest a flat look.

"Judah, I'm an obsessive power-crazy god. I don't even give a fuck if it's right or not so long as I want it."

"Also a fair point, but was starting yet another chaotic, despair-filled war worth it just to get stabbed by a fragment of your sister's power?"

"See the above."

At that moment, a loud, rallying cry rang out across the swamp, further disorienting the flying bloody eyeballs, and Doma perked up.

"Is that them?" he asked excitedly, wiggling his wormy limbs. "Please tell me that's them!" The bodies of two dread fighters and one gold knight flew through the air and landed with anticlimactic plops in the swamp, followed swiftly by a living gold knight twirling a golden lance above his head. Alm, Celica, and the Whitewings followed Zeke's charge, and Doma could feel the hatred in the heroes' gazes even from that distance. "IT'S THEM!"

"Welp, considering that they tossed Kelves, Balrez, and Bahdess halfway across the swamp, it's safe to assume that we aren't getting out of this alive," Judah grumbled. "Thanks, oh Doma." The dark god didn't notice; he was too busy dancing up an earthquake in ecstasy and causing the continued demise of Heste's dignity. The Bigles sensed an enemy in their vicinity and charged in the heroes' direction with a sense of relief, only to be met by the gleaming lance tips of the Whitewing trio.

Est frowned as seven Bigles in a row ran straight onto her silver lance, weighing it down to the point of ineffectiveness, and observed, "Maybe it's just me, but these monsters seem dumber than usual. None of them have even tried moving away from my attacks."

"Their depth perception is shit and we're moving pretty fucking fast, so they can't register the danger in time," Palla explained, ever the wisest sister. Est huffed and threw her lance away only to have the same thing happen to her newly materialized iron lance.

"This is getting god damned ridiculous," Alm growled, cutting the bleeding eyeballs down left and right with the Falchion. "If we don't figure out a way to kill these things stat, we're going to be here for an eternity!"

"Why is it taking them so damn long to get over here?!" Doma fumed, eliciting a face palm from Judah.

"Maybe you shouldn't have cried a river of Bigles and set up shop in a swamp, milord," the high priest gritted out, only to be met with a huff.

"Well, they should have brought a priestess with warp," Doma said snippily as he attempted to cross his tentacles and ended up making a slimy mass of slippery spaghetti.

"They're trained for primarily healing purposes," Judah noted, "so why would you waste time that could be spent campaigning trying to teach them spells that may or may not be useful?"

"I did provide endless hordes of monsters for that express purpose!"

"What does fighting have to do with learning new spells that aren't even combat based?" Judah queried, genuinely confused.

"Forget that I mentioned it. But no seriously, those ASSHOLES should HURRY UP!" Doma roared. The fighting halted, and Celica straightened with the fury of a Norse calamity burning in her eyes.

"Oh, he did not," she fumed. "He did not." Alm saw an opportunity and cheekily goaded, "He did."

"RAGNAROK!" Celica shrieked, raising her arm as virulent flames erupted from the earth beneath her and raced up the princess's body. The blaze coalesced into three massive globes of fire at the tip of her fingers, drawing all gazes to the bright orbs and causing significant eye damage to more beings than just the Bigles, and then her arm dropped.

The spell shot forward and landed in the middle of the swamp separating the heroes from Doma and friends. An enormous pillar of flame rose amidst the horde of Bigles and the noxious, flammable fumes hovering above the similarly noxious, flammable swamp.

The swamp exploded.

"Sweet tits of Mila!" Alm swore, raising an arm against the heat and spattered Bigle guts. "That was awesome!" Celica giggled and blushed at the praise, puffing her chest at the sight of one of the witches burning in the distance.

"Now you go deal with Doma, Alm, and do your fair share!"

"Uh… you want me to run through the- hey, watch the arms!" Palla and Catria lifted the hero between them, Est trailing behind, and flew over the conflagration, dropping Alm directly on Doma's head. He aimed for the dark god's eye, his Falchion shining bright, only to misstep and slip and slide through the slime on Doma's back.

"Wow, could you suck anymore?" Doma sneered, sniggering at the nauseated look on Alm's face.

"Why don't you shut up and die, Doma?" Alm challenged, backhanding Mara with the Falchion and knocking her into the fire to die with her sister.

"Why don't you die instead, boy," Judah deadpanned. The high priest was subsequently skewered on three lances and was removed of both his ability to snark and his ability to breathe.

"Hurry up and stab me already!" Doma whined. "I'm getting sick of waiting!" Alm stared at the dark god, confusion registering for a face-wide convention on the hero's face.

"You want me to stab you?" The dark god rolled his eye in impatience and sneered, "Noooooo, I just woke up one day and wanted to turn the continent on its head again and kill a shit ton of people. Well, that's actually true, but it's really just an added bonus that's an inherent part of my end goal. Just swing that Mila-blessed blade right at my eyeball- I want to feel my sister inside of me!" The confusion that had registered on Alm's face was kicked out by a sudden invasion of ire, and ire always had priority at face-wide conventions.

"You set up a destructive invasion and forced me to kill my own father just so you could fulfill your creepy incestuous desires?" Alm growled.

"I miss her," Doma pouted, glaring at the hero. Alm glared back. Doma glared back even harder and accidentally set off his own eyebeam. "Shit!" Alm neatly sidestepped the beam and spat on the dark god, sheathing his sword and raising his arms to the Whitewings.

"Fuck you, asshole."

"W-wait, don't go!" Doma begged. "Just one poke is all I need! After that, I'll leave Valentia forever! I promise! DON'T LEAVE MEEEEEEEE!" The dark god curled back into the fetal position and sobbed as the airlift carried his hopes and dreams away, all alone.

"I'm still here, milord," Ghanef spoke up. He was ignored.


End file.
